Chris Brown, a Dedication



This website and my book, A Love Story of Impossible Bottles, are dedicated to my late husband, Chris A. Brown, who tragically died in a skydiving accident on July 7, 2012, at the age of fifty-two.

Chris was the son of Sylvia Joy (Cole) Brown and the late Mayor Robert E. Brown, of Watsontown, Pennsylvania. He served with the U.S. Air Force and had also served with the Army National Guard. He was the IT director at the Graduate School at the Pennsylvania State University when he died.

Chris was a very special and unique person with many interests and talents. He was the master of the Impossible Bottles highlighted in this book and the original owner and founder of this site (you can see his original version of the site here: http://insidethebottle.com/original. He was a member of Skydive Happy Valley and the National Rifle Association. A skilled athlete, he was an accomplished soccer goalie and pole vaulter earlier in life. He excelled in martial arts and enjoyed juggling, playing chess, photographing, gardening, canoeing, kayaking, scuba diving, and recreational target shooting. He was also a talented guitarist.

Penn State was a big part of Chris’ life. He graduated from Penn State with a Bachelor of Arts in Psychology in 1986 and worked at the university for 24 years until he passed away. He was an excellent public speaker and respected expert in his field.

Chris, a 32-year vegetarian, loved nature and valued all living beings. He was particularly fond of dogs.

Chris was a wonderful husband and partner. He was gentle, kind, affectionate, a good protector, and most of all, a good friend. For the time we were together, Chris and I were so happy and showered each other with affection, love, and care. Just three days before his passing, when outside of a baseball stadium waiting for the July Fourth fireworks, he whispered in my ear, “I still can’t believe I am married to you and I love you so much.” It was said out of nowhere. About an hour before the fatal accident, he called to tell me what he was hoping we could do that afternoon and evening. The last thing he said was, “One more thing, honey—I love you very much!” I said, “Me too, honey bear. I miss you already!”

Needless to say, his shocking death rocked my world and left us (me, our families, friends, and colleagues) to search for the deeper meaning of life.

If there's one thing that I want the world to know about my husband, it's that he never took any day for granted. He treated everyday as if it were his last. He would always say “I love you” and really mean it. That was very important to him. I like to think that his spirit—and his message-- lives on through the book.

Author Kathy Brown